


Like a wildflower

by onewgiri



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: ChanSoo - Freeform, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 09:09:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11250024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onewgiri/pseuds/onewgiri
Summary: Because first love is beautiful, just like a wild flower. And maybe his love for Kyungsoo indeed was—untended, unintended—but bloomed beautifully in the middle of the woods just by looking up to the sun that was Kyungsoo; crying with the rain that was also Kyungsoo.





	Like a wildflower

 

 

 

 

 

 

The street smells of daisies and lilacs.

A tall young man scans until to where his eyes could reach. The houses have changed; faces mostly of strangers’. It has been long since his own pair of feet last stepped on this ground, but even that has been replaced with concrete.

Everything is so new.

At the corner of the street, a humble flat with a beautiful garden rests, bringing back memories of his childhood, reminding him why this place is _home._

He pushes the door open. A lamp at the end of the room flickers blue.

A short man in a white shirt and green apron turns around with a smile, a heart shaped smile, disturbing himself from his little task of tending the orchids. “Welcome to Rose’s. How may I help you?” He greets with a polite bow.

“Uhh… Hi.” Chanyeol greets back as he scratches the back of his neck. He isn’t prepared for this.

The man doesn’t lose his smile. “What occasion for?”

Chanyeol fiddles with the hem of his shirt. “Just… for a friend.” He answers, and the man’s lips stretch a little more. “I haven’t seen him in eight years, and I’m going to today, again. I want to give him something he’ll love.”

“I see. Are you sure he’s just a friend?”

Eyebrows are raised. “Well, yes. Of course.”

The man smiles even wider. “Daffodils.” He says, hands leading to the other set of yellow flowers by his side. “For new beginnings.” He then proceeds to tend the flowers by the far-end shelf, turning his back to his customer. “I can add a few statice, if you want. For free, since you’re new here.”

Chanyeol starts tapping his soles on the wooden floor. “Do you really not remember me?”

The florist doesn’t answer for a few seconds before he turns around to face him again. “It’s my first time seeing you here. Did you just move in?”

Chanyeol’s face falls. Disappointment seems to have dug a pit in his chest. “Daffodils, please. Add whatever you think is good.” He says instead, and by the way the man’s expression changed, he could tell how awful his face must have looked like.

The florist doesn’t ask further. “Okay.” He answers as he grabs a few flowers, a plastic sheet, a pretty white ribbon, and starts to work on wrapping them all together. Chanyeol quietly watches as he concentrates in his work, eyebrows knitting together.

“Here you go.” He hands the now pretty bouquet to his customer, who places it down the counter as he fishes for his wallet.

Chanyeol gives the florist his pay, mutters a small ‘thanks’, and then starts to walk away.

“Mister!” He hears him call. “You left the flowers!”

Chanyeol’s hand is already turning the knob when he stops in his tracks. “T-those are for y-you, Kyungsoo.” He inwardly bites his lips for his stupid stuttering, pulling the door open and dashing out all at once.

A lamp at the end of the room flickers blue.

 

 

 

\--

 

 

 

It was a stupid first love.

Kyungsoo was the kid who brought the sun with him while he walked down the streets, a positive aura clinging unto him like a second skin. He was a lot more shy and upright than Chanyeol was, but he was bright and cheerful and his eyes counterfeits the shapes of the moon while his lips make you feel loved when he smiles and everybody in the village just _loved_ him— the grandmothers, the shop owners, the teachers— everyone, including Chanyeol.

On weekends, Kyungsoo and his father would go to the downtown market and sell flowers there, taking advantage of a busy day’s crowd. Kyungsoo tried to sing one time to gain the attention of customers, his father dancing along with a mismatching mambo, and ever since then he was singing, luring customers into their small spot,ever since then his voice served as the market's music and life.

(And Chanyeol would always be there, hiding behind a fruit stand as he listened to the melodies that came out from heart shaped lips.)

On weekdays, he’d bring flowers along with him when he comes to school, hiding them safely in a paper bag. He’d round the village with his bicycle after school and give the grandmothers a piece of flower—just one, with its roots still hanging from the stem— just  one, but it made them ten times happier.

When there’s surplus, he’d give it to those kids he sees without a smile

“For you.” Kyungsoo had shoved a yellow flower into Chanyeol’s face one rainy day, his smile off-putting the absence of the sun. 

Chanyeol blinked his large eyes that were no match with Kyungsoo’s. “For me?”

Kyungsoo nodded. “You look sad.” He reached for Chanyeol’s hand and forced the flower into it. “Don’t be.”

Chanyeol took it with a smile. He wasn’t sad, really. It just so happened that he lost in a bet with his sister and had to cut his hair, which he hated. Short haircuts expose his big ears.  “Thank you.”

Kyungsoo smiled again and Chanyeol almost swore there were love sparks, until a boy crying soundlessly walked pass them and Kyungsoo quickly dashed away with his paper bag attached on his bag pack, leaving Chanyeol as he yelled, “Oh Sehun! Why are you crying again?”

Chanyeol watched Kyungsoo give a flower to Sehun— a much more beautiful one than what he had received— and chuckled more at himself than at Kyungsoo’s cuteness because it was ridiculous to think he was special to Kyungsoo for things he did to everyone else; for things he did to every sad-looking person he sees in the streets.

“You can’t cry everyday. I’ll run out of flowers!” was the last thing Chanyeol heard from Kyungsoo as he forcefully left the school grounds, wondering if he should learn some drama acting in order to be noticed by the younger boy everyday. And then he chuckled, internally slapping himself.

_It was a stupid first love_ , but beautiful, nonetheless.

 

 

 

 

 

\--

 

 

 

 

 

Chanyeol breathes in. The air’s scent is still the same.                                

He had always been someone who is glad with the constant things. Change is inevitable, Chanyeol knows it, but he likes to value things for what they once were, for what they can’t be anymore.

The downtown district used to be his bigger playground— the streets his own running track; the little shops his hiding place. He and his little ‘gang’ used to play here during weekends, from day to night, soaked with sweat and skins tanned by the scorching sun, only to stop when called by their respective parents for dinner.

Kids are now running around the place in big groups, and Chanyeol smiles as the remnants of yesterday hits him. He’s glad someone has taken his old throne.

“My, my. Our poor Kyungsoo.” Chanyeol is heading to the market to buy Yura’s list when he passes by a fruit stand and hears the familiar name. He stops and sees three old women in their tiny circle.

Their eyes are all directed forward, and it’s long before Chanyeol realizes they’re looking at Kyungsoo, who seems to have just bought groceries from the mini mart in front of the fruit stand. He’s now making his way out, wearing black earphones.

“He’s changed ever since that day.” Another old woman utters, and Chanyeol thinks she recognizes her. She must be his favorite ahjumma back in the days, who lets him hide in her stand as he creeps into Kyungsoo’s singing. “My heart breaks for him.”

His parents taught him that eavesdropping is not a good deed, but when did he ever listen, anyway. He picks up a few oranges and pretends to be examining whether to buy, while the three women don’t seem to notice him.

“He has to stop isolating himself from everyone.”

“Poor boy.”

“I would send him to school, but he doesn’t accept any help! He’s even one of smartest kids in our town.”

“He would have been the same had his father not died.”

“He must be really lonely.”

“I’m still glad he survived, though.”

Chanyeol stays a little longer to hear the whole story. Kyungsoo and his father had a car accident three years ago. Kyungsoo survived; his father died.

Chanyeol’s heart drops. It’d hurt for someone who can’t even recognize him. No wonder Kyungsoo was alone in his flower shop whenever Chanyeol came to peek. There’s a heavy weight that has been placed in Chanyeol’s chest and it’s making him cold in his fingertips. He puts the oranges back to their places and wordlessly slips away.

 

 

 

 

 

\--

 

 

 

 

A lamp at the end of the room flickers blue.

“Welcome to Ros—“ Wide eyes widen. “Oh mister, it’s you! How can you forget the flowers you paid for?” The florist grabs a handful of daffodils and his same materials from last time, resting them at the top of the counter. “I put them back for a while so they won’t die until you come back for them. Have you seen your friend already?”

Chanyeol doesn’t answer. He walks slowly towards the counter. “Kyungsoo.”, he mumbles instead.

Kyungsoo stares at him for a while before his eyebrows furrow. “How did you know my name?”

“Did you lose your memories in that accident?” He probes, pretty sure his childhood acting was good enough for Kyungsoo to give him flowers at least once a week. He can’t be that unmemorable, right?

There was a silence for a minute or two before Kyungsoo eyes the tall guy’s pricking ears. “Park… Park C-Chanyeol?” He mumbles.

Chanyeol almost leaps in shock. “You remember me?” He asks, heart pounding in joy. “Oh god, did I just triggered your memories back?”

Kyungsoo laughs heartily as he hits Chanyeol’s arm in a friendly manner. “Stupid.” He says, before he pulls his hand away as if realizing he was too comfortable. “I didn’t lose my memories. I’m just not good at remembering people.” He clears his throat, turning his head to the right.

Chanyeol feels heat creeping into his cheeks. He hopes they aren’t red right now. “I-I was kidding.” He clears his throat as well, momentarily placing a fidgety hand over his neck. “Anyway, I just got back from America last week, how have you been?”

Kyungsoo turns his head back to face Chanyeol, blinks, and stares right into Chanyeol’s face a little more. “I-I’ve been fine?” Chanyeol’s not sure why it sounded more like a question than an answer. Kyungsoo shuffles his feet on his way back to the counter.

“I’m glad.” Chanyeol whispers, but Kyungsoo doesn’t show any sort of response as he concentrated on wrapping the bouquet back.

“Here.” Kyungsoo mumbles as he tries to hand his customer the same bouquet of Daffodils.

The tall guy flinches away from his reach, feeling rejected. _Those are for you,_ Chanyeol wants to say, _I told you, didn’t I?_ He took one more step away. "I won't take it anymore."  He waves a dismissive hand at Kyungsoo.  "I have something... I— I need to go now. " Chanyeol walks away without ever touching the flowers, leaving a baffled Kyungsoo behind. The windchimes by the door rings.

A lamp at the end of the room flickers blue.

 

 

 

 

 

\--

 

 

 

 

 

It is a stupid first love.

Forgotten, rejected, but Chanyeol finds himself standing in front of the flower shop once again, his pride diminished by the waves off the shore. Splashing noises from the garden prompts him to round the house’s perimeter.

Kyungsoo is there in the garden, wearing a white shirt, white pants, black earphones and his usual green apron. He’s watering his pretty flowers, kneeling beside their bed and talking as if they were his kids, as if he’s telling them bedtime stories.

“So pretty.” Chanyeol hears him say, smiling. And Chanyeol thinks he’s even prettier and he is so caught up with the heart on his face that he didn’t hear it when Kyungsoo called out, “Chanyeol? Is that you?”

“Chanyeol?”

Startled, Chanyeol trips on his own foot and falls to the ground. He tried to grip unto the fence, but his long arms failed to catch it. He’s lucky enough to be able to prop his elbows to prevent his back from hitting it hard.

Kyungsoo runs pass the gate to Chanyeol, taking off his earphones in the process. “Are you alright?” He asks. “What were you doing there?”

Chanyeol shakes his head, helping himself up. “I’m fine.”

The florist gasps. “Your elbows are bleeding.”

Kyungsoo helps Chanyeol to his flower shop, grabs a medicine kit as soon as they are inside. He treats his wounds carefully, stopping abruptly whenever Chanyeol winces. And people say he’s changed, but Chanyeol still sees the same boy from eight years back— that boy who beats the brightness of the sun; that boy who helps everyone, even strangers; that same old boy Chanyeol loved and continued loving— even if he barely leaves his house and meddles with anyone anymore. That boy is still alive somewhere inside Kyungsoo.

“Did you come for the daffodils?”

Chanyeol winces. “No, let’s forget about the daffodils.”

Kyungsoo simply nods and smiles.

 

 

 

 

 

 

\--

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chanyeol makes sure it becomes his daily routine.

Sometimes he’d be a creep, sometimes he’d be a friend. Sometimes he’d be both; but only when Kyungsoo catches him in the middle of watching from afar. Whichever he is, he makes sure he sees Kyungsoo on a daily basis. He’s making up for the years he wasn’t able to do so.

It took a lot of time for the florist to get used to this. It wasn’t easy. At first he found it quite disturbing— but never weird; he’s always been used to Chanyeol’s creeping, ever since they were young. It wasn’t easy, but now he’s used to it.

Like waiting for Chanyeol to come had become his daily routine, too.

There are days when Chanyeol doesn’t even need to hide himself because Kyungsoo would already be in his hiding place (behind an oak tree not too far away, where he used to hide when he was seven); or days when a cup of hot coffee will already be waiting for him the moment he enters the flower shop. There also are days when Kyungsoo would sit down with Chanyeol and actually _talk:_ talk of things that aren’t about daffodils or any flowers; talk for long hours like he wants to catch up on Chanyeol just as Chanyeol wants to catch up on him. He isn’t too eager to reply like Chanyeol— It’d take him a few seconds— but he’ll do anyway, Chanyeol only needs to wait, and Chanyeol’s good with it.

It is by far Chanyeol’s greatest achievement.

“Can you sing for me?” Chanyeol suddenly blurts out one day, sitting atop the counter of Kyungsoo’s shop.

Kyungsoo is staring at him intently for a while before he freezes. “I’ve stopped singing.”

The tall guy examines Kyungsoo and then simply nods. Kyungsoo would tell him why one day.

Kyungsoo leaves Chanyeol in his shop with a cup of coffee and paces to his garden to water the flowers. He’s kneeling down again talking to the flowers when he catches Chanyeol watching him through the window. Kyungsoo smiles. Chanyeol smiles back.

And all of a sudden Chanyeol feels right in all places.

_I was the one stupidly in love,_ Chanyeol thinks as he watches Kyungsoo, happily treating his 'kids'. Kyungsoo straightens up to sweep his hair away from his forehead and all that Chanyeol sees is _beautiful._ Kyungsoo is so damn beautiful. And he’d been to Canada and Chicago and New York and all the good places in the West but he’d still come back for his most beautiful Kyungsoo.

Loving Kyungsoo _stupidly_ is yet his smartest decision.

 

 

 

 

 

\--

 

 

 

 

 

Chanyeol comes back the next day with a deafening declaration of: “STARTING TODAY I AM YOUR APPRENTICE!”

As the lamp flickers blue, Kyungsoo turns around only to see Chanyeol cheerfully giggling by his door, and he’s only caught the last word. “Apprentice?”

“Yes.” Chanyeol saunters through the shop, examining each of the beautiful flowers, leaving no room for Kyungsoo to even say no. He stops in front of a lavender set and crosses an arm across his chest, a hand on his chin. “Hmm… Carnation?”

Kyungsoo chuckles. “They’re anemones.”

Chanyeol clicks his tongue. “Ah. I knew it.” He then points at the flowers facing the outside of the store, all giddy and proud. “Ah, sunflowers!!”

“Who wouldn’t know how sunflowers look like?”

Chanyeol’s face falls and he pouts as he walks towards the counter, bending to prop his elbow over and rest his chin on his palms. “I need to know all their names. I have to be your best apprentice.”

“You’re my only apprentice.” Kyungsoo replies and Chanyeol looks up to him.

He remembers the things he had heard from the three women. What happened to Kyungsoo, really? He wonders about the Kyungsoo who rounds the village at 4 o’clock; the Kyungsoo who’s always excited to sell flowers in the district market; the Kyungsoo who does not lock himself up inside their humble flower shop. Where had he gone?

Before he could open his mouth to speak, blue catches the corner of his eyes as a customer walks in.

“Welcome to Rose’s!” Kyungsoo greets with that same heart-shaped smile that Chanyeol loved and for a while, his worries are thrown to the shore once again.

 

 

 

 

 

\--

 

 

 

 

 

That night, Kyungsoo sends Chanyeol off with a pink flower, freshly plucked from the rich soil of his garden.

“Lisianthus.” He says, “For appreciation.”

 

  
  


 

 

\--

 

 

 

 

 

Every Sunday morning, Kyungsoo goes to the district to buy groceries and fertilizers, and Chanyeol would secretly tag along, watching Kyungsoo from afar. He notices how Kyungsoo would not greet back the people who greet him with: _Good morning!_ or _Hi, Kyungsoo_!— unless that person greets him face to face. Only then would Kyungsoo bow and give a small smile. He also notices how most of the time, Kyungsoo wears his black earphones as if to provide a reason not to talk to the villagers.

Chanyeol wonders if he’s the only one Kyungsoo _talks_ to. It makes him half-sad and half-special.

“Do you know what that is?” Kyungsoo suddenly speaks aloud— a little too loud— when he’s passing by the park after a busy Sunday shopping, placing his plastic bags down for a while.

Chanyeol looks around. No one except him is near Kyungsoo’s radius.

“C’mon Chanyeol, I know you’re there.”

It took a minute before Chanyeol jumps out into the street from behind a post, lamely scratching the back of his neck. “I- I was passing by.” He excuses.

“Do you know what that is?” Kyungsoo repeats, pointing at a purple flower on the grassy side of the park, but his eyes are on Chanyeol, only on Chanyeol.

“A flower?”

“A wildflower.” Kyungsoo corrects.

“Don’t wildflowers grow in the wild?”

“Isn’t the world outside my house the _wild?”_ Kyungsoo retorts, and Chanyeol’s taken aback for a second.

_Is that what you think, Kyungsoo?_

“They represent love.” Kyungsoo states, handing Chanyeol one of his plastic bags before he starts walking again. Chanyeol follows suit, walking behind the florist. “Myriad of species, but they all represent love. Even better than roses.”

“Did your father’s book teach you that?”

Kyungsoo doesn’t answer and just continues walking.

“Did your father teach you that?”

Kyungsoo looks back at him and simply smiles.

 

 

 

 

 

\--

 

 

 

 

 

 “BOO!”

Kyungsoo looks up from his sales record, merely blinking at Chanyeol. “Oh, Chanyeol. You’re here.”

Chanyeol scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed. He’s pretty sure his voice was quite loud and definitely surprising. But Kyungsoo’s expression tells him otherwise.

The florist looks at the lamp at the end of the room, and then back at Chanyeol. “I didn’t feel you coming.”

Chanyeol's eyes land on the lamp as well. “I was being quiet.” He’s seen the same lamp at the end of Kyungsoo’s garden, and another one at Kyungsoo’s kitchen. There’s also one in the living room— basically everywhere, maybe even in Kyungsoo’s room.

Kyungsoo nods. “What’s that?” He asks, referring to the huge thing that hung lowly at Chanyeol’s shoulders.

The tall guy looks back at Kyungsoo, smiling briefly. “My guitar.” He jumps to sit at the top of Kyungsoo’s counter, and then takes out a wooden brown guitar out from its case. “Hey, have I told you? I learned all kinds of instruments while I was studying in America. I’ve learned composing as well. Wanna hear one?”

Kyungsoo stares at him for a while, as if processing what had been said, before he nods unsurely. “But I’m not really into music.”

_You love music._ Chanyeol thinks, reminiscing the Kyungsoo who was very fond of playing the piano since they were eight, learning it purely by ear. He used to visit one of his favorite elder every Wednesday and borrow her grand piano that lay unused in her house, while Chanyeol hid in her garden to listen. He remembers how happy Kyungsoo was those days. _You love music._ Chanyeol wants to say, but he doesn’t.

Chanyeol starts strumming, whispering a small, _no lyrics yet_ , and Kyungsoo watches idly from his seat, fidgeting with his fingers. Chanyeol’s fingers moved slowly but expertly over the strings, placing all his attention on his guitar for a while. Kyungsoo thinks it’s a mellow music.

After what seemed like forever, Chanyeol places his guitar down on his lap, grinning proudly. “What do you think?” he asks, expectant.

Kyungsoo’s eyes roam around the room. “I-it’s nice.” He answers, before standing up. “I don’t feel well today, Chanyeol. Can you close the shop for a while? I’m going to rest.” He suddenly concludes, hurrying to the door that connects the shop to his house and locking himself in his bedroom.

Chanyeol wants to follow him, but the lamp at the end of the room flickered blue and Chanyeol immediately turns around, as if on cue.

He’s the only one to greet this time.

“Welcome to Rose’s!”

 

 

 

 

 

\--

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sometimes, Chanyeol swears it’s just sometimes, he thinks that Kyungsoo looks at him like he’s the only thing in the world; as if he’s the center of his universe; as if Kyungsoo is in love with him as well.

He isn’t too vain to assume, but he can’t help to do so when Kyungsoo’s beautiful eyes land on him every time they talk, only on him, and nothing and no one else.

Like right now.

Chanyeol is in the garden talking about America and music and everything his fast mouth can gather in a minute when he notices that Kyungsoo is looking at his lips, only at his lips, eyes focused. 

He stops in the middle of his very long narration about Tom Sawyer and suddenly blurts out:

“Do you want to kiss me right now?”

Kyungsoo is still staring at his lips for some time before he looks up, eyebrows meeting. “Wha—“ He couldn’t even finish a single syllable as Chanyeol’s big hands cupped his face.

Kyungsoo’s first kiss is nothing special, really. It happened in his little colorful garden, when he had just finished planting new seeds with his apprentice and their hands are still a little covered with earth. They both haven’t showered yet, sweat still sticking to their skins after a busy day of work. It’s midday in a heartwarming weather of August when Chanyeol’s lips first touched his.

And for the first time in his life, Kyungsoo felt like a wildflower.

 

 

 

 

 

\--

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s a warm morning the next day, August 5, when Chanyeol is greeted with the sign: ‘closed’ hanging on the door of his favorite flower shop.

 

 

 

 

 

 

\--

 

 

 

 

 

Kyungsoo wears his earphones today, almost all the time that Chanyeol couldn’t start a conversation with him. He’d tend the flowers wearing them, organize things in the shop wearing them, calculate expenses and incomes wearing them— basically do everything wearing them and Chanyeol is frustrated that it seems like Kyungsoo is doing this to not talk to him today.

It’s when Kyungsoo places a cup of coffee in front of a slacking Chanyeol, walks to the kitchen to prepare sandwiches, that Chanyeol finally decides they can’t end the day like this.

He takes one of Kyungsoo’s earphones off and hastily wears it. “What are you list—“ He wrinkles his forehead. “What is this, there’s no music at all.” He finds himself eyeing Kyungsoo with creasing eyebrows after hearing nothing through the small gadget. Is he really doing this just to not talk to Chanyeol?

Kyungsoo steps back and grabs the chord to release the earpiece from Chanyeol’s big ear. “I just turned it off a little while ago.” He utters, eyeing the taller guy a bit annoyingly. “Will you please go back to the shop, as there might be customers?”

It prickled Chanyeol’s heart a little, the way Kyungsoo talked.

“Okay.” He simply nods, and that’s the last conversation they’ll have for the day.

 

 

 

 

 

\--

 

 

 

 

 

It turns out that is also their last conversation for the week.

Chanyeol can’t pinpoint which is the root, but he can tell what’s going on. It’s very clear and evident like an answer key stapled with a test paper.

Kyungsoo is avoiding him.

He wears his earphones all the time now, leaving no room for Chanyeol to start a conversation. Sometimes he puts it off and Chanyeol would call him while he tends the roses, but he wouldn’t even bulge, eyes and hands concentrated only on his task and nothing else.

Even so, Kyungsoo isn’t that mad (if that is the case) to leave Chanyeol’s stomach empty. Chanyeol never caught him doing it, but he’d always leave warm food by the counter and even a cup of coffee during the morning. Chanyeol still sees some glint of hope with this and maybe he could let Kyungsoo treat him silently just for another week.

When they finally talked again, what Kyungsoo said is this:

“Stop being my apprentice.”

Chanyeol shuffles nervously from his lazy position in the counter. “But I was just resting, there aren’t any customers!”

Kyungsoo shakes his head, “No, Chanyeol. You’re the best companion I could ever have, but stop hanging out with me now.”

Chanyeol straightens up his back, tensed. “Is it because… of the kiss?”

Kyungsoo bites his lips.

It’s a heartwarming weather in August and the wind blows gently from the outside. Kyungsoo’s flowers are swaying in its rhythm, and Chanyeol could almost hear them giggling as they played with the wind. It feels exactly like the day he held Kyungsoo’s cheeks and let his lips touch his favorite heart-shaped lips, exactly like the day butterflies flew around his stomach like they would in Kyungsoo’s colorful garden.

Looking at the florist staying silent makes Chanyeol hope Kyungsoo felt what he had felt too.

But before he could even gather the courage to ask, Kyungsoo shuffles his feet and wordlessly leaves for the kitchen.

 

 

 

 

“Do you know Oh Sehun?” Kyungsoo suddenly asks after they’re done closing the shop, now in the middle of his humble living room.

Chanyeol, who had just entered the room while wiping his sweat with a neat towel, is taken aback with the suddenness. “Oh Sehun, the mute kid?”

Kyungsoo winces, and then nods.

“What about Oh Sehun?” Chanyeol vaguely remembers the kid with sharp eyes and long frown, the one who’s always bullied just because he couldn’t express himself in words. He remembers the kid who is breathtakingly beautiful when he smiles, something only Kyungsoo could make him do as far as he knows.  “Are you…” _Together?_ Chanyeol didn't have the courage to ask.

“He killed himself two years ago, August 5.”

Chanyeol almost gasps. He gulps instead, walking closer toward Kyungsoo.

“He was still bullied.” Kyungsoo says, eyes still looking at Chanyeol, now with tears threatening to fall. “He tried to live, I helped him. I swear I tried my best to help him... but my flowers. My flowers couldn’t save him. I couldn’t save him, Chanyeol.” There are tears in his cheeks now.

Chanyeol doesn’t know what to do. He pulls Kyungsoo into his arms, patting his head gently. “It wasn’t your fault.” is all that he could mutter, but he still doesn’t get it. He doesn’t get what this is about."It wasn't your fault." He continues chanting like a magic spell to heal whatever wound in Kyungsoo has been reopened.

Chanyeol doesn’t go home tonight, he stays with Kyungsoo and enters his bedroom for the first time. Holds him in his arms while he cries about things Chanyeol knew nothing about, wished he knew about. Kyungsoo is just crying the whole night with Chanyeol’s arms around his waist, providing him warmth his thick sheets never can.

“My—“ Kyungsoo is saying something that Chanyeol can’t make up. He’s hiccuping and his words are interrupted. “My flowers—“

“It’s okay,” Chanyeol mumbles, pulling Kyungsoo closer. “Let’s talk about it tomorrow.” He coos and Kyungsoo nods.

It’s only when Kyungsoo finally falls asleep, when he whispers while he’s lost in his dreams, that Chanyeol finds out what he had been trying to say:

_My flowers can’t save me either._

 

 

 

 

 

\--

 

 

  
  


 

 

Chanyeol’s eyes are still heavy with sleep when realization dawns into him.

He woke up in Kyungsoo’s bedroom alone, stirred up with the noise of clashing pans coming from the kitchen. He was sleepily looking through Kyungsoo’s closet for a clean big shirt, when he sees a brown envelope stamped with the name and address of a hospital in Seoul.

He grabs it and quickly scans through the contents, eyes widening with all the information he gathered.

He rolls his eyes around the room. There's a blue lamp by the bedside table.

_“Kyungsoo, what are those blue lamps for?”_

_“To see when a customer comes in.”_

_“Why don’t you have a cellphone, Kyungsoo? It’s 2014 for God's sake!”_

_“I… there’s no one to call.”_

_“Can’t you go to the market without those earphones?”_

_“It’s for protection.”_

_“from what?”_

_“Kyungsoo, from what? Hey, look at me.”_

_“Kyungsoo? Kyungsoo?”_

Chanyeol drops the papers and quickly runs to the kitchen.

Kyungsoo is facing the stove when Chanyeol finds him, not even bothered by the sound Chanyeol’s heavy steps had made, or the way his breath heaves, and how he’s calling him right now, voice almost breaking down.

“Kyungsoo?” Chanyeol tries, walking closer. “Kyungsoo?”

He calls him about three more times, and Kyungsoo still doesn’t respond, flipping the eggs in the frying pan.  Clueless.

The lamp located at the end of the kitchen flickers blue and Kyungsoo shuffles rapidly, turning the stove off and dashing to the store, giving no acknowledgement to Chanyeol’s presence. When he comes back six minutes later, Chanyeol is already waiting right by the door, lips pursed together.

The florist blushed briefly before he speaks. “You’re awake. I’m preparing breakfast.”

Chanyeol doesn’t answer, he only walks closer and stops a few inches away from Kyungsoo, whose breath had hitched. Chanyeol covers Kyungsoo’s huge eyes with his palm, whispering a low, “Can you hear me?”

“What are you doing, Chanyeol?” Kyungsoo asks, suddenly nervous. He holds and attempts to remove Chanyeol’s hand that was obstructing his vision, but Chanyeol is much stronger than him. He eventually gives up trying.

“Can you hear me?”

Silence.

“Kyungsoo.” Chanyeol mumbles, and then repeats his name over and over again like a mantra. It used to sound so right in his lips, but now it sounds like glasses breaking.

“Kyungsoo.”

Chanyeol feels his palm being wet with hot tears as silence ate the both of them.

“I can’t hear you, Chanyeol.” Kyungsoo finally says. “I can’t hear you, goddamn it.”

Chanyeol lets his arm fall to his side.

“It’s that goddamn accident,” Kyungsoo explains, eyeing the wooden floor. “It didn’t just took my father, it took my future, my life. It took a vital part of me.” Chanyeol notices how he’s shaking now. “I can’t hear your voice, your music, the way you laugh, the way you call my name and I hate it. I can’t hear you, Chanyeol. _I read you._ ”

“I know, I know.” Chanyeol’s voice cracks at the last syllable, but Kyungsoo doesn’t notice, doesn’t see; he’s still eyeing the floor.

Chanyeol cups Kyungsoo’s face and makes him look at him. “I know. I know.” He repeats, and Chanyeol notices how Kyungsoo’s eyes automatically fly into his lips, reading the way they open and close. _God,_ he was such an idiot. “I'm such a fool to see this just now.”

“Don’t slow down with your words for me.” Chanyeol didn’t notice himself do it until Kyungsoo points it out. “Don’t pity me.”

“I don’t.”

“You pitied Oh Sehun. Everyone pitied Sehun. Everyone took advantage of him.”

“I didn’t.” Chanyeol interjects, and it’s true. He never pitied Sehun. In fact he was jealous of him, because he got to be with Kyungsoo everyday. “I’ll never let you be taken advantage of.” He assures, but the florist doesn't catch it as he is now looking everywhere but Chanyeol.

He's violently shaking now. “My flowers couldn’t save him…. They can’t save me either….” He repeats the words again and again. His fear of falling to the same hole as Sehun is inevitable, haunting him.

Chanyeol keeps on calling his name, telling him to stop, but Kyungsoo only continues and doesn’t respond. He can’t read him now. He turns Kyungsoo’s head to face him again, examining him. It’s the first time he’s seen Kyungsoo this scared. “List— look. Kyungsoo, I’m here. I can save you, I will save you. I and your flowers will.”

Kyungsoo is still looking at his lips, reading his words as he continues to say _I won’t leave you, I promise, I promise,_ when suddenly Chanyeol leans down for a kiss.

It took Kyungsoo a few seconds, before he tensed down and eased.

It's not the most ideal second kiss, but for the first time in three years, Kyungsoo doesn’t feel so lost anymore. Chanyeol's arms are there for him to hold on when his knees feel like giving up. He throws the worries off his shoulder— the fear, his inability to hear— and starts kissing Chanyeol back, wrapping his arms around his neck as Chanyeol lifts him up with his arms.

Their touches start to fill the gaps melodies have left hollow inside Kyungsoo.

As they fall backwards into the couch, Kyungsoo lets Chanyeol take off whatever's left of him. He hides nothing now, he lets Chanyeol see the wholeness of what lacking creature that he is. And as Chanyeol holds him, treats him like the most expensive porcelain in the world, Kyungsoo starts to think that maybe, just maybe, he can still hear music with his heart.

 

 

 

 

 

\--

 

 

 

 

 

It's a heartwarming weather in mid-August when Kyungsoo wakes up alone in the bed, the coldness of the space beside him indicating that Chanyeol has long been gone. He whimpers as a sudden rush of fear whooshes through his veins, dreading the possibility of reality sinking into Chanyeol: that being with a deaf like him is only up to no good.

He musters just enough courage to strengthen his knees and as he stands up, he sees a black box resting beside the blue lamp on the bedside table. He quickly bends down and takes the box in his hand, heart thundering in his chest as he opens to see what's inside.

It's a ring.

As he takes it out, he notices an irregular shaped hole in the middle of it. He squints. It looks like a weird thunder to Kyungsoo. He's still examining the piece of jewelry when a yellow paper makes it to his line of sight, revealing a tiny note inside the box. Kyungsoo takes it and immediately reads:

 

_They call it a sound wave ring._

_This is how my voice looks like_

_When I say I love you._

_So even if you can't hear me say it,_

_You can see it, feel it._

_And maybe you'll never hear the sound of me chanting your name,_

_and I'll never fall asleep drowning in your voice_

_but I don't even need a single sound in the world_

_to tell you_

_that I love you._

 

_(gosh, do kyungsoo, I tried to be poetic just for you)_

 

Kyungsoo now wears an ear splitting smile on his face. He flips the paper around.

 

_ps: I also have one, to be fair_

_i recorded your voice when you confessed to me, just two days ago._

_im sorry if i did it without your knowledge._

_peace out_ ヽ( ˃ ヮ˂)ノ

 

Kyungsoo smiles even wider it might tear his cheeks apart, slotting the jewelry into his ring finger.  And just right at that moment, Chanyeol enters the room with earth clinging to his shirt, wearing a lame and apologetic smile as he mumbles without finishing, "I fell down while trying to water th—"

Kyungsoo's lips are soft and warm against his.

It's not the most ideal third kiss either. Kyungsoo is still in his pj's— he hasn't even brushed yet— and Chanyeol is filthy with all the earth in his previously cleanest white shirt. His hands are wavering at his sides, unsure whether to touch Kyungsoo or not, but he ends up touching him anyway because it just feels so right. He can only hope Kyungsoo won’t mind the dirt Chanyeol had just transferred to his clothes.

And maybe, Kyungsoo thinks as they part and smile at each other, maybe the world has a lot of music he doesn't and will never be able to hear, but there is Chanyeol and his undying love, that Kyungsoo will always be able to feel.

He’ll settle for that.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> well, i just reposted this just cause


End file.
